Into The Darkness
by Flick-chan
Summary: Lost in a moment of despair, Merry craves only one thing; but once trust is shattered, it can be difficult to repair.


Author's Notes: An incredibly short 2nd person POV fic, based on that powerful scene in 'The Return of the King'. I know this is the book fandom, but it was a wonderfully moving piece of imagery; all credit to Peter Jackson, Billy Boyd, and Dominic Monaghan who all contributed to its effect. Feedback is welcomed, and appreciated. Enjoy the story. 

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own 'The Lord of the Rings'. That privilege and honour belongs to the guys at New Line Cinema, Wingnut Films, and the Tolkien Estates. If you sue me, all you'll get is a really battered paperback copy of the novel, which I'm sure you've read many times already. 

Dedication: To all those people out there who fuel my love for 'The Lord of the Rings' fan fiction.

"What we do in life echoes in eternity." -: 'Gladiator'

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Into The Darkness

By Flick-chan

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You lay there, smothered in the blood red blanket of battle. If you strained your ears, you could here Aragorn yelling, Gimli shouting. They seemed worlds away from you, and your frozen form which remained still on the ground. 

Your helmet was bashed on one side, the snow white horse of Rohan squashed into nothing more than a bright speck upon the dull maze of copper. Tousled fronds of hair pressed against your face, your cheeks, matted with sweat and tears. How had it come to this?

"Look at me, Merry." Even though your eyes were squeezed shut, you could sense he was watching you. You knew what he was searching for - that sign of power and strength that you always seemed to betray. You were the endless tower of stability that he looked to in his time of need. It felt as though you were hewn from silk, a mixture of all those bright and bold chivalrous colours - valiant reds, golden browns, warm greys. But if you were such a strong person, then why did you feel as if you were about to be torn in two? 

He spoke again. "Please, Merry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Saruman's palantir was just so beautiful, so tempting. You understand, don't you?" 

No. You didn't understand. How could he sit there, calm and collected, whilst people were dying? Blood was being shed over his stupidity...kings and realms and traditions were collapsing, all because of that one illustrious moment. 

Maybe he thought that knowing the name of the object which had caused his downfall made everything all right again. It gave him something to blame, some other reason to justify the massacre that was occurring on both sides. 

And that was wrong. You knew it. Then why did you want to believe him? What was the point in even asking that? You knew why you listened to his childish, hopeful words, why you encouraged him to talk to you more than anyone else. 

He might grow older, and mature to become wise beyond his years, but to you, he'd never be anything more than a little boy. That was how you wanted it to be.

You liked having control, being the dominant one. He followed you like a puppy, heeded your advice like a son. You loved him - nothing was ever going to change that, no matter how hard you tried.

"I'm sorry. Don't blame me, Merry - it wasn't my fault."

Oh, but it was his fault. His fault you were lying here wounded, unable to open your eyes for fear of seeing thousands of bodies around you. Bodies which had fallen for him, for his mistake. 

This darkness. It made you feel alone. But you were alone. Alone in the field, and alone in the way you thought. About him. About everything. You loved him, but you couldn't bring yourself to say anything.

"Say something. Anything. I don't want to die alone."

No - neither did you. You didn't want the loneliness that you felt now. The dreadful feeling that however much you cared for someone else, in the end, you were always alone. It felt as though the age around you was slipping by, and while you lay there, oblivious to the changes taking place, you were losing something.

It wasn't the will to live...it was more the ability to make the choice to live. Your energy was draining away, becoming nothing more than fertiliser to feed the yellowing grass that your body rested upon. You didn't care anymore, things were beyond you now. Any dreams or hopes or aspirations that you might have had would be gone in a second - but still, you couldn't find it in your heart to blame him. He was naive, a virgin of the world around him. You couldn't take away his childish innocence for something as meaningless as an accusation...could you?

"Please..."

No, you couldn't. You couldn't destroy him any more than you already had. Even although it had broken your heart when he betrayed your trust and left you behind while he went to Minas Tirith with Gandalf, you still couldn't put him through any more. He hadn't meant to do it, you knew that now. He was sorry, and you didn't want him to end up like you, so close to dying that you could smell the air of the dead wafting in and out of your bones. Your muscles were becoming light and airy...and you knew that if you were just to let go, you'd be gone.

His voice was breaking, chipping away at the seams. What was left of his feral strength would soon be gone, and all that he had come to love was falling apart before his very eyes. He was pleading with you, begging. He wanted you. Needed you. And you liked to feel that way - but not when the catalysts were the people lying around you.

Then it hit you, like a sharp cold breeze from the North. Éowyn. Was she alright? Had she survived? Her sacrifice had been so much greater than your own…you even felt ashamed. Here you were, lying paralysed in the middle of the field, wallowing in your own self pity. Slowly, you thought of Éomer. What would become of his spirit, should Éoywn die? 

It would be gone, tarnished by her passing. He could be broken, destroyed by her death. And could you really watch Pippin go through that? Was your anger with him enough to allow yourself to watch him crumble beneath your false ideal? 

You felt your power over him fail. Who were you to decide when someone had been punished enough? That wasn't your job, nor was it theirs.

Forgiveness. Forgiveness was what you both needed. You'd been through so much in the past - and he was here for you now, calling your name, praying you would answer to his soft, tearful calls.

"Don't…" you could hear him whispering against your blood drenched neck. "Don't leave me. I'm sorry."

"Forget about it," you heard yourself answer. Softly at first, but your words gained strength as they went on. "We all make mistakes." Easing your eyes open, the first, and most beautiful sight you had ever seen bestowed itself upon your gaze. "We'll have a fresh start - we'll get through this war together."

He embraced you, so tightly you thought he would cut off your air supply. "Never go away again," you heard him breathe through his tears. "I don't think I could stand it. Promise me?"

Accepting the embrace, you stole a glance a few metres away. There were more bodies about you than you ever could have guessed. But they had all died for something. "I promise."

You had survived for something.

End


End file.
